


A Critique of...

by tyroneslothrop



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Verging on philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyroneslothrop/pseuds/tyroneslothrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The merchant doesn't sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to his product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise. He degrades and simplifies the client." - William S. Burroughs, Naked Lunch</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Critique of...

“Are we dating? Are we not?”

You are sat in a room. Stale white walls encase your body. Above you, a raw lump of meat is being dangled by a string. The carcass juices are dripping on your head in a steady mockery. Grotesque boyish faces are staring down on you. They are anthropoid. Non-sentient. One brown, one blue. Their faces twist into something lewd as if you are simply seeing a pair of moving mannequins. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Are we dating? Are we not?”

-

One of the veterans they met when they were young once told them that the closet is a slower, more socially acceptable form of suicide. Dan disagrees. The closet, when utilized correctly, can be a tool of profit. The closet, Dan has learned, is an instrument that can be employed to garner public interest. We turn our sexuality into string puppets, and in return we are handed headlines. Thus they remain, 2 dimensional characteurs. Dan and Phil™ t-shirts. Get 'em here. Danandphilshop dot com.

There is a cramped waiting room in Hell for those who had too much pride on Earth. Narcissistic, navel-gazing bullshit does not garner views in the underworld. Rather, it earns you a slot in the waiting room between Alfie Deyes, who reeks of onion crisps and Joe Sugg, who keeps trying to get a garner at your crotch. Dan is stood behind the glass panes of the reception area. Their leader, perhaps.

“...for we are simply capitalists and businessmen,” he commands into the mic, “and somewhere along our journey, we lost our souls.”

-

Things pass. Things have expiration dates. You can make it last longer though, and Lord knows that's what these vapid little boys are trying to do. That dangling lump of meat is still above your head, by the way. Soon, the fixation on the confirmed-but-not-quite relationship loses itself to more valuable exertions of energy. The thrill of having a certain banned video on your hard drive fades with time. You will end up deleting it. And a robotic voice will cry from the darkness, “Will we get a dog? Will we not?”

Degradation is when you're pushing 30 and you address your fans as if they're children. Degradation is when you're pushing 30 and you still make videos titled THE CHEESE CHALLENGE. Degradation is when you sell yourself on the Booktuber Bandwagon to make a quick buck. Degradation is when you're in your mid 20s and you're selling llama shirts. Degradation is when you're in your mid 20s and your discussion of philosophy doesn't extend beyond “Yo isn't it so crazy that we EXIST? And then we DIE? Yooooo.”. We are being degraded along with them.

-

“Are we dating? Are we not?”

You are sat in a room. Peeling white walls encase your body. Above you, a raw lump of meat has been strung to a light bulb. The juice has dripped out of it now. It is a rotten punching bag for the flies. From the top of the wall, you can see the cracked edge of a tape recorder. It has been on repeat for years now.

“Are we dating? Are we...”


End file.
